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    Springing to Austin

    03.20.2015 / PLAY

    This is a sponsored post for Zappo’s – thanks for reading! The sun is peeking and the ground is thawing and it’s the kind of week that tricks us into thinking that perhaps we can officially stow away the hats, coats, mittens, gloves until mid-October. And yet, I live in the Midwest, where there’s nothing official about the weather. Our climate is flighty, an 8th grade adolescent feeling equal parts angst and love, responsibility and slack. And so, we’ve been …

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    The Bite

    03.18.2015 / LIFE

    Last week the jealousy bug bit me, and it latched, and I continued to carry it around my day like there was a miniature snapping turtle attached to my index finger – flailing about and knocking things over. I had less grace, and less patience, and less focus, because see this? This snapping turtle rearing his head, with the triangle teeth? I cannot even pick up my coffee cup without it. When the snapping turtle comes, it is, for me, …

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    Bee’s New Room

    03.17.2015 / PLAY

    I’m the youngest of three girls. Here’s what that meant, for me, when I was smaller: (1) I wore Guess jeans six years after they were cool, (2) My baby book lies empty (save for a few strands of blonde locks that I placed in the tiny designated envelope when I was in junior high shortly after lamenting that my mother was too busy to mother me, so I’d need to fill out my own baby book and mother myself …

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    A Canopy of Forever

    03.16.2015 / OTHER

    It started Sunday, with the tantrums. They were not hers, but mine, and they were fueled by a variety of external factors, excuses – too much noise, not enough rest, too much sugar, not enough time – and I had become itchy with discontent. I was on edge, a jagged, barbed wire version of myself that fenced out the good: gentleness, patience, kindness, love. When I’m feeling particularly edgy, I forget a lot of things. I forget that I’m the …

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    Freebird

    03.13.2015 / LIFE

    As much as I talk about less, about purchasing less and striving for less and working toward less, I have quite a bit of more. My job, this brown swirly mix of writing and styling and designing and producing, creates a tornado of stuff. Daily, there are cardboard boxes arriving at the door, ready to be unpacked and photographed and kept, or passed along to someone else, whilst the tower of empty boxes and spilled styrofoam peanuts sit in the …

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    Pen Pals

    03.10.2015 / FAMILY

    As a child, I attended an annual summer camp in southern Indiana. I’d leave home with drawstring shorts and bug spray and lip gloss stuffed into an orange cracked-leather suitcase smelling of rust and something else, chamomile? And a week later, I’d return with pages of contact info scrawled onto notebook paper tear-outs, tucked into nooks and crannies of the silk luggage lining. Reid Carlisle’s address near my left shoe. Julie Rhynhardt’s phone number by the toothpaste. Before I’d unpack, …

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